


We're All In This Together

by LaFlashdrive



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: High School Musical AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:10:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3313376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFlashdrive/pseuds/LaFlashdrive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When 17 year old Laura Hollis, captain of the East Silas High girls’ basketball team, meets Carmilla Karnstein on winter vacation, their karaoke escapades lead Laura down a path she never expected: singing in musicals. As Laura falls in love with her new passion, she starts to fall for Carmilla, too.</p><p>Aka, the High School Musical AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start of Something New

Carmilla really isn’t sure if she likes this place. It’s been a week now since she’s moved to her new house, and she just can’t seem to settle into Albuquerque no matter how hard she tries.

It’s hot – like really hot - even though it’s supposed to be the middle of winter. New Mexico seemingly defies the laws of physics, and Carmilla thought she had a pretty good grasp on that particular subject. She’d placed first in the science fair at her last school for a project she did on the laws of motion. That school was halfway across the country, though. Even if she hadn’t particularly liked it there and never really knew anybody, at least the weather made sense back east.

She’s more than thankful when her mother says they’re taking a vacation for winter break like normal people for once. Usually all they do during vacation is move. It’s never much of a break for Carmilla. This time, though,they’re going up north a little to the mountains where physics seems to regain control of the world. It snows here, even if it is still the rugged western half of the United States Carmilla doesn’t want to admit it is.

She watches the snow fall on the car ride to the ski resort with an almost dreamy fascination. The landscape has gone from red deserts to rocky white tundra, and she doesn’t even mind how the car bounces and her knees slam into the dash every time her mom hits a bump in the road. The textbooks in the book bag on her back jump every time the tires do, and Carmilla likes the constant reminder that they’re there, that she’s slipped a thin novel in between her calculus book and her research writing manual that she plans on devouring later when her mom is out of the room and no longer watching over her shoulder. Sometimes it sucks to have a high school principal for a parent.

The ski resort is even more beautiful than she imagined it. There’s snow all over the ground at this high up in the mountains, and yet the trees are somehow still green, unaffected by the weather or the seasons. Something about the west is magical, Carmilla thinks. She’s not sure if the logical side of her likes it, but the part of her that still loves to read fairy tales when no one is looking does and maybe the next couple days of vacation won’t be so bad.

Carmilla doesn’t really ski, and she’s sure her mom has never been down a slope in her life, but she doesn’t really mind because the lodge is nice. Like, really nice. When her mom said this was a lucrative community she didn’t realize just how beautiful the wooden log cabin would be or that from the window of her room she would have a picturesque view of the busiest slope in the resort where the lift is taking skier after skier up and down the rugged mountainside and a bundled up father and daughter snowboarding team are zigging through the green of the trees in playful competition in front of her. Even the hot chocolate in her hands tastes better than she remembers cocoa tasting. She can’t imagine drinking something so warm back in Albuquerque. It’d burn her insides alive.

This is somewhere she likes, somewhere she can imagine spending more than a couple of days or a couple of months. She feels free here, and she regrets that she’ll have to leave it just like she has to leave everywhere else.

She pulls the novel out of her backpack because she can’t imagine doing anything but reading by the windowsill right now. The light reflecting off the snow through the glass dyes the yellowed pages of her book the same striking white of the ground outside, and she loves the way the paper looks and feels in her hands. Her mom stops her before she can even make it through the first paragraph, though.

“You should start getting ready for the party soon, Carmilla.”

“Party?”

Carmilla’s mom is adjusting the neckline of a dark blue dress around her collarbones, and Carmilla hadn’t even noticed when she’d changed her outfit. She wracks her brain for a moment for what her mother means until she remembers that it’s New Years Eve. Of course there’s a party tonight. There are parties all over the world. She just doesn’t really care that much for parties. She’d rather read her book.

Her mother sighs. “Honestly, Carmilla. I told you about the teen party tonight on the way here. Were you even listening? You have to make a good impression there. This isn’t a vacation, you know.”

Carmilla sighs. She knows.

That doesn’t mean she can’t dream.

The only reason the two of them were even able to afford to come to this resort was because so many of the faculty members at the new school her mom was teaching at had memberships here. They had invited her as a complementary guest and told Lilita that Carmilla could come along with her because there would be all kinds of kids her age she could hang out with.

This is a business opportunity for Carmilla’s mom, and she had pounced on it the moment it presented itself. She isn’t about to ruin a perfectly good chance to get on good terms with the rest of her employees - not to mention the wealthy parents of the students who also have memberships here and would be the ones donating most of the funds to all of the school accounts. Carmilla is as big a part of her mother’s plan to impress her contemporaries as anything. She is a reflection of her mother. She is the perfect example of how Principal Karnstein can lead her students to success. She is a prop to be paraded around and shown off like a PowerPoint or a diagram, and honestly Carmilla just wants to read.

If her mother has anything to say about it, she’s not going to be able to, though. She’s going to that party whether she wants to or not. She sighs and presses the front cover of her book to its back.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. At least her mom will be in an entirely different room than her for the rest of the night, and she’s sure such a fancy resort knows how to throw a good party, whether she’s someone who typically enjoys parties or not. Not to mention, she doubts the rec room will even be that crowded. It’s a couple hours until midnight, but it seems like everyone is still outside skiing. Only the two snowboarders are missing from Carmilla’s view when she looks back to the window again. She can handle a small party.

She knows one thing, though. She’s definitely bringing her book.

///

Sweat wets Laura’s forehead, and she feels the pony tail bobbing up and down on the back of her head as she runs. It isn’t going to stop her, though. She can wipe her brow later. She can tighten her hairband after she sinks the shot.

Her dad guards behind her, blocking her path to the basket with wide arms and a height surpassing hers even as he crouches. He’s no problem for Laura Hollis, though. She knows just how to get around him. She dribbles once, then twice, then lurches her upper body towards the right, faking her father out before dashing left and zipping around his stumbling frame, reaching for the basket with her arms and letting the ball roll off her fingertips and swish into the net.

She cheers, and her dad follows suit with an impressed eyebrow raise. He bends down to grab his knees and catch his breath. “What a shot!” he praises. “I want to see that again.”

“Oh, you’ll see that in the game!” Laura assures him, making a show of dribbling the ball some more and refusing to admit that she’s getting just a little bit tired. They’ve been playing for a little while now, and she did spend all afternoon snowboarding after all. She doesn’t want to stop, though. She’s just getting warmed up. “Let’s run it again. I’ve got to practice before the tournament starts next semester.”

Papa Hollis raises his shirt, uses the grey collar of it to wipe the sweat from his own face. It’s not particularly attractive, but nobody else is around to watch. It’s just him and Laura in the gym, and he’s thankful that it’s New Year’s Eve and everyone else at the resort is probably busy getting drunk early and doing more reckless things than he cares to think about. He and Laura need the alone time to practice without those kinds of distractions.

They really probably should be getting ready for the party, though. It’s almost midnight. He tells Laura this in not so many words. “I think you’ve got the fake and break down. Maybe it’s time to turn in for the night.”

Laura huffs, clutching the ball to her side. “Oh come on. One more? I’m on a roll.” She spins the ball in her fingers and pouts the way she knows her dad can’t resist. He gives in with a sigh.

“Alright, one more.”

They scramble into position again, Laura facing away from the basket with her dad close behind her. She dribbles, fakes him out, turns the other way, and shoots. Nothing but net. She smiles again.

“There! Now that’s the way to end it.”

Coach Hollis agrees and makes sure to grab the ball himself this time so that Laura can’t use it against him. “Yes, it is. And now it’s time to shower so I don’t stink for the faculty party and get fired by the new principal before school even starts. No one likes a dirty basketball coach.”

Laura giggles then leans in to sniff her dad before regretting that decision immediately. She’s going to very passionately argue that the new principal can probably smell him from here, but then she gets a whiff of herself and wow she does not smell much better. “ Yeah, I better shower before the kids’ party, too. And by the way, when you said kids’ party did you mean…”

“Young adults,” her dad corrects, phrasing the words with quotation mark fingers and the ball in the crook of his elbow. “There’ll be plenty of kids your age there. Some of them probably go to Silas.”

Laura nods, then hesitates. “Wait. East Silas or West Silas?”

“East,” her dad says proudly, flashing the East Silas Wildcat symbol with his hands, his thumb and pinky crossed and his middle three fingers spread out in a ‘W.’

Laura nods approvingly. “Good. I wasn’t about to associate with any Knights.”

“We never speak of the Knights,” Papa Hollis says accusingly, pointing a finger at his daughter. “Not unless we have to play them for the state championship. And even then, if we mention them, it better be derogatory.”

Laura smirks. “You know it, Pops.”

He smiles and ruffles Laura’s hair, despite the fact that she’s not five anymore and it doesn’t really move on top of her scalp when it’s pulled down into its pony tail. Laura still straightens it afterwards. “That’s my girl. Now hit the showers. I’ll see you at midnight.”

/

Laura is so used to wearing jerseys that it almost feels weird to wear anything else. Usually at school she gets by with sweatpants or basketball shorts and a t-shirt, but that’s definitely not going to fly at this party, and she’s forced to put on a button up and one of the few pairs of jeans she has that she hasn’t worn holes into the knees of. Her neck feels way too hot with the stiff collar around it, and she thinks sleeves are a waste of an opportunity to show off the perfectly good biceps she’s been sculpting since she was five. There isn’t anything she can do about it, though, so she relents and puts on a sports jacket over the outfit. She does look nice, even if it is in a different way than she’s used to.

The party isn’t nearly as bad as she imagined it might be. There were two options in her head: Barney playing on the television or a keg of beers next to a bowl of spiked punch on the refreshments table, and she’s glad to see that it turns out to be something in between. There’s a foosball and air hockey table and the TV is being used to display karaoke lyrics large enough that the entire lounge can sing along if they want to.

It seems like a fun party, but Laura can’t do much besides stand in the center of the room awkwardly. Her dad was wrong, and she doesn’t know anybody here, at least she hasn’t found anybody that she recognizes yet. She’s not really in the mood to make new friends either because she feels like the only people who will talk to her are the guys who probably brought their own spiked punch, and she’s definitely not interested in that. Even if she did manage to befriend someone who wasn’t some creep trying to hit on her, she didn’t even live in this state. There’s no way she’d be able to keep in touch with them. She has enough friends, anyway. She isn’t lonely.

The karaoke stage is in the center of the room, and it doesn’t take long for Laura to figure out why. It’s a riot, and not in the good way. Currently there’s a tall, gangly guy singing way off key to some pop song Laura’s never heard, but she’s not sure if he’s any worse than the girl he’s singing with who clearly thinks that she has the voice of an angel even though her vocal cords were clearly given to her at birth by Satan. Laura’s kind of surprised anyone can even bear to stay in this room with the two of them singing like they are, but half of the party-goers are distracted with their own conversations and the other half find the couple on stage either too amusing or too grotesque to look away. Laura’s a bit entertained, but she’s glad when the song ends and the MC comes up to separate the pair.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough of that.” The man very purposefully grabs his mic back from the boy and personally escorts both of the singers off the small stage, giving the audience wide, knowing eyes that even Laura laughs at. He shakes his head in disbelief, then quickly sets about picking a song he hopes the next duo will sing much better.

Laura assumes the karaoke is done on some kind of sign up system. If that last girl is any clue she thinks there has to be some kind of volunteering process, so she’s a bit surprised when the MC looks around the room curiously and asks, “Alright, who’s next?”

The lights dim even lower than they already were, and a spotlight roves the edges of the crowd. Laura follows it for a moment, wondering where and when it will stop, and her eyes scan the crowd hopefully until suddenly it’s very bright. She shields her eyes and as she tries to regain her vision it doesn’t take her more than a second to realize that the light has stopped on her.

///

Carmilla isn’t sure what parties need couches for, since most people appear to be doing their talking standing up, but she is sure is glad this one has some, even if she is the only one she can see who’s sitting down on them.

She waited to leave for the rec room until right after her mother left, and before she left their room, she grabbed her book. It was a sly move and she’s proud of it, but it isn’t proving to be very effective right now. It’s hard to concentrate on reading when people are talking all around her and the only distinguishable sound is the awful singing from the stage she’s sitting way too close to. She’s thinking about moving until the song that’s playing finally ends. There’s a couple moments of quiet where only the MC is talking. His voice is smooth enough that it doesn’t grate on Carmilla’s ear drums, and she finally manages to relax. She gets through almost half a page with her eyes squinting in the dark lighting, when suddenly there’s something blinding her, and she looks up to discern what kind of nuclear apocalypse is descending upon them all.

She can’t make out anything but the MC staring right at her and a very short girl being shuffled onto the stage beside him. Suddenly she’s not in control of her arms anymore and someone is pulling her way too hard with not nearly enough of her consent and her book falls from her lap onto the couch, shutting without the bookmark in it.

She’s about to fight off her kidnapper but she’s still blinded and by the time she regains herself enough to turn to the man holding her, he’s already letting her go and pushing her up onstage. The spotlight goes away again, and with tiny red blobs swirling in the corners of her vision, she looks across the stage she has no desire to be on to see a smirking MC and a girl that looks as horrified as Carmilla feels – a cute girl that looks as horrified as Carmilla feels. Carmilla’s too paralyzed to move and she’s not sure if it’s from the shock of being brought onstage against her will or from the sight of the girl beside her.

The two of them reach for the mics in sync because they’re the only things to grab, and they’re both kind of trapped as the MC pats their shoulders and rushes off the stage. Before he leaves he says one thing, “Someday you’ll thank me for this. Or not.”

That’s all it takes. Carmilla doesn’t want to do this. She’s going to leave. She’s going to.

And then the song starts.

///

There are at least a million things telling Laura not to sing right now.

One, she doesn’t want to.

Two, she doesn’t even know this song.

Three, a party where people consistently laugh at the singers doesn’t seem like the place for Laura to start her career as a musician.

Four, she hasn’t sang in a decade.

Five, there’s nothing stopping her dad from coming in and hearing her at any moment.

What is she supposed to do, though? Just walk off stage only to have someone grab her and pull her back up like they did to the girl beside her? She’s got nowhere to go and no excuses to leave. She’s stuck.

The first line pops up on the screen before a solution can pop to her mind, and Laura thinks it’s just as embarrassing to miss a lyric or look like she doesn’t know how to read as it is to sing terribly, so before she can think about it, she finds herself singing along in time to the machine.

Then there’s four lines on the screen and she can’t get through a single one of them without clearing her throat and silently praying that she doesn’t sound as awful as the duo onstage before her. The blood is pounding in her ears and she can barely even hear herself. The room is too dark for her to see anyone in the audience’s face, and she’s horrified that she’s humiliating herself the way everyone else has. She doesn’t want to hear any of them laugh, doesn’t think she could bear it if they did. It doesn’t matter that they’re all strangers and she’ll never see them again.

When her lines are over, she takes a much needed breath, but it doesn’t help anything. The air is too warm in here. It suffocates her lungs. She’s pretty sure that if she doesn’t get offstage right now she’s going to die of an embarrassment much worse than the one she’ll feel if she leaves the party and retreats back to her room alone, so she decides to make a break for it.

She turns around to go, but then she hears something, something she doesn’t expect at all. The girl beside her is good.

Laura turns around again, back to the screen and back to the girl. She’s clearly just as uncomfortable as Laura with her arms crossed in front of her chest and her voice soft on the mic, but fuck if she doesn’t have the voice of an angel despite it all – fuck if she doesn’t have the looks of an angel despite it all. Laura watched the girl come up on stage, but for the first time she really looks at her. She’s beautiful in that soft kind of way, in the way Laura can get lost in the brown of her eyes because they’re dark as chocolate and on the same level as hers. The girl isn’t more than an inch taller than her, and just that little fact makes Laura inexplicably happy. It’s rare for her to find someone as short as her, especially considering most of her friends are on the basketball team.

Maybe it’s the fact that they’re the same height, maybe it’s the fact that this girl is smiling so shyly and so sweetly at her, maybe it’s just her voice, but whatever it is, Laura feels like she’s connected to this girl.

She goes back to her mic and sings her lines.

_I know_  
That something has changed  
Never felt this way  
And right here tonight  
This could be the start of something new  
It feels so right  
To be here with you  
And now looking in your eyes  
I feel in my heart  
The start of something new

There’s a cheer from the crowd, then a chorus of claps and maybe karaoke isn’t as bad as Laura thought it would be. There’s a tingle in her chest from the vibrations in her throat or from the way the girl onstage is looking at her, but either way, Laura is hot in all the best ways possible. Her hands lift to her shoulders and shimmy her arms out of her jacket, then she tosses the coat to the crowd like a rock star as she sings. A girl in the front row eats it up, clutches the jacket for dear life, but Laura doesn’t care. All she cares about is that the girl beside her likes the show she’s putting on, too, and Laura watches her smile with a smile of her own.

Laura needs to be closer to her. The three foot space between them feels much too wide, so she grabs her mic and pulls it off its stand. It’s easier to carry around like that, gives her the mobility to move not-so-subtly a couple of inches closer to the brunette on her left as she turns to face the girl.

The girl’s hands never leave the stand of her mic, but her eyes never leave Laura. She sees when Laura turns to stare at her and she stares back just as intently. Their eyes only turn away from each other’s when they look back up to the screen to read their lines, and it’s only seconds before they return to the other’s again. It’s cheesy, really. Laura knows it, but she doesn’t care.

With such beautiful eyes on her, Laura knows she can’t flub this. She isn’t, though. She feels great. She sounds great. And the audience is electric. Even though she doesn’t know this song, the more she sings it, the more it feels like her new favorite. When her solo comes up, she dips the mic stand, leaning dramatically toward the girl beside her with a grin on her face as she belts out her lyrics. The girl smiles wider, if at all possible, and her reassurance makes Laura feel nothing like the fool she did a couple of minutes ago.

The more they sing, the more the shy girl beside Laura doesn’t seem so shy anymore. She finally follows Laura’s lead and plucks her mic from its resting place to hold it close to her mouth. Her other hand rests firmly on top of the mic stand, and Laura can’t resist. She moves forward, looks into the girl’s eyes, and puts her hand over hers on top of the stand. When their fingers touch, it’s more magical than she could have imagined. If the crowd is electricity, this girl’s hand in Laura’s is a straight up lightning bolt thrown by Zeus. Their skin only brushes together for a brief moment, but it’s all Laura needs to know that this is probably the best New Year’s party she’s ever been to.

Suddenly the song is ending way too quickly. What happens next? Is Laura only allowed these three minutes of happiness? Is the rest of her night all downhill from here? She doesn’t know, but she does know that when the song ends and the girl’s lips stop moving, Laura still can’t take her eyes off of her.

The crowd cheers even harder than before, and Laura feels out of breath as if she’s one of them, like she’s been shouting her ovation to the girl beside her much louder than necessary for quite a while now. She wants to applaud her, but the real praise Laura gives her karaoke partner is much quieter, much more intimate. Their eyes can’t seem to lock off from each other’s even though the MC is coming back on stage and is probably going to kick them off of it any moment now.

Somehow she finds the words in her exhausted lungs to introduce herself, and she’s happy she doesn’t sound as out of breath as she feels. She thanks her eleven years of basketball practice for that.

“Laura,” she says simply, smiling to the girl and outstretching her hand in welcome. She misses touching her, wants to help her off the stage hand in hand before the MC can escorts them off separately. The girl takes it, brushes her thumb across the back of Laura’s hand subtly.

“Carmilla.”

/

Carmilla hasn’t let go of her hand and Laura isn’t really sure why, but she’s absolutely not going to protest in any way. Their fingers are locked together and Laura’s pretty sure neither of them know where they’re going, but they’re both following wherever it is their feet are leading them as they time their steps in sync. Laura’s grateful when they leave the party and end up on the porch of the lodge. It’s quieter out here, bu it’s colder, too. Her breath curls around Carmilla’s.

“That was amazing,” Laura says. “You’re such a good singer. You have to be a singer. You sing, right?”

Carmilla shakes her head and smiles sheepishly. “Not really. It’s mostly just a hobby.” Carmilla’s teeth are so white, so pretty. A couple of snowflakes land gently in her hair, and Laura gets lost in how soft everything about Carmilla looks. When Carmilla speaks again, it snaps her out of her trance.

“What about you? You must be a singer, too, yeah?”

Laura shakes her head very forcefully. “Definitely not. I’ve never done anything like that before. I never sing anywhere where people can hear me. My only fan is my shower head.”

The joke is dumb, but Carmilla laughs at it anyway, and Laura is almost painfully aware of how their hands are still linked together. She wants to think of something else to say because if she doesn’t she’s just going to overanalyze the entire situations and her palms are going to get sweaty and Carmilla won’t want to hold her hand anymore, but before she can form any type of coherent thought, there’s shouting from the lobby as the entire building starts chanting in countdown.

_10, 9, 8, 7_

Laura wonders if she should chant to. She knows she would if she were in the room with the rest of the crowd, but she’s not. She’s on the patio here with Carmilla and Carmilla is silent and staring at her and Laura doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

_6, 5, 4_

At three seconds until midnight, Laura remembers what midnight on New Year’s Even means for couples. Are she and Carmilla a couple? No. They just met. But Carmilla’s looking at Laura like they could be one, like if they weren’t in the middle of the mountains at a ski resort they could be something much more than just two people on vacation who aren’t going to see each other ever again. Carmilla looks at Laura like she’s going to kiss her and Laura thinks she might just lean in and kiss her first.

_3, 2, 1_

When the clock strikes zero, the noise of streamers and shouts inside drowns out all of Laura’s thoughts. Despite the interruption, all she can focus on is Carmilla. She decides to go for it. She leans in and then –

///

Carmilla jumps at the fireworks. She hadn’t been expecting them and her hand tightens around Laura’s as she turns her head to the sky. As shocked as she is, the colors of the lights are beautiful and she can’t help but stare at them in awe until she remembers that Laura was about to kiss her, probably still wants to. When she turns her head in the shorter girl’s direction, though, Laura is watching the fireworks with just as much reverence as she was. Carmilla prefers this new view much better, though.

Carmilla wonders if Laura knows she’s more beautiful than any explosions in the sky could ever be.

She wants to kiss Laura. She really does. She wants nothing more than to take Laura back to her room and kiss her for the rest of the night and maybe for the rest of eternity, but she can’t. Her mom would never approve. She’s supposed to be at this party wooing the children of her mother’s coworkers, not spending time with some random girl she has to leave behind when she leaves tomorrow night.

She has to leave all of them eventually.

She learned a long time ago that it was just better not to get attached. She can’t kiss Laura no matter how badly she wants to. It’s for the best.

When Laura looks back at her, Carmilla feels guilty. “Um. I have to go find my mom,” she stumbles, ranting an excuse that she really wishes she didn’t have to say.

Laura looks surprised, like she wants to protest Carmilla leaving, but she doesn’t. “Oh yeah! Totally! Um. I guess I better find my dad, too.” The awkward laugh she breaths out is adorable and Carmilla can’t help but want to hear it again. That’s her sign that she really has to go. She really likes this girl way too much to have known her for all of maybe ten minutes.

“Hey!” Laura starts, reaching for Carmilla’s arm with her free hand to stop her from going. “Um. I don’t really know how to say this, but… Can I call you? Maybe?”

Laura’s so nervous, and Carmilla can’t help but return her laugh because there’s really no reason for her to be. Laura is sweet and charming and so good looking, and… Yeah. Screw what her mother thinks. Screw having to leave. She wants nothing more than for Laura to call her.

She nods her head. “Of course!”

Carmilla fishes her phone out of her pocket and Laura does the same, regrettably taking her hand off of Carmilla’s arm to do so, and when they swap phones, it forces their hands to separate too. Carmilla types her name into Laura’s phone so quickly she’s afraid she’s messed up the number, but when she double checks it, it’s right. All she can do now is hope that Laura really does call her. And hopefully soon.

When they swap phones again, Carmilla takes a quick glance at Laura’s contact information. She can’t be sure if the number’s right until Laura calls her for the first time, but at least there are seven numbers on the screen. If Laura’s giving her fake info, she’s doing a convincing job of pretending to be interested in Carmilla, and Carmilla’s glad for that. She doesn’t even want to think about the possibility that Laura might not be as into her as she is to Laura.

When Carmilla looks up, a flash blinds her, and the first thing she sees after the spots desert her vision is a smiling Laura. “Contact photo!” she says cheerfully, and Carmilla can’t help but smile at her tone. She takes that as her cue to take a picture of Laura, too. She smiles for it, and Carmilla’s so happy that she no doubt got the better of the two pictures.

This girl even looks beautiful in photographs.

Carmilla hates that she has to leave her.

///

Laura’s body buzzes and she starts to wonder if maybe the punch was spiked after all because that’s the only way to explain how great she’s feeling right now. She’s so happy Carmilla said yes.

She can’t stop staring at the photo of her on the screen and thinking about how happy she is that even though her flip phone is incredibly shitty it still takes good enough photos to capture the way the snow looks in Carmilla’s hair and the way her cheeks dimple when she smiles.

Laura’s got that cheesy grin on her face her dad says he always loves, and she figures she has to repay Carmilla for making her night the way she has. She wants to make Carmilla that happy too.

“I had a lot of fun tonight. I don’t usually sing, but singing with you was probably one of the best parts of this entire vacation and this has been a really good vacation. So, uh, where do you live?”

When she looks up from her phone, Carmilla is gone.

She can’t really find it in herself to mind, though.

She looks at the picture one last time and smiles.

“Carmilla.”


	2. Chapter 2

It feels good to be back in Albuquerque. Even if Laura really wishes she could have stayed at the ski resort a couple more days and seen Carmilla more than once while she was there, she really does miss school. Maybe not the homework. Or the teachers. Or the fact that she has to be there at eight in the morning. But her friends, yes. Basketball, yes.

When she steps off the bus and onto campus, she’s greeted by a crowd and the band playing the East Silas High school song, and it gets Laura pumped. The State Championship is only a couple of weeks away, and they’re in it. They have an actual chance to win. This is going to be her year, and she’s going to lead her team to the number one ranking in the state.

Then she’s going to do it again next year, too.

She’s already excited, and when she sees Kirsch barreling towards her from the center of the crowd, she perks up that much more.

“Hollis!” He throws a basketball at her, and she catches it expertly. It feels good in her hands as she carries it through the crowd, and it feels good to have her best friend beside her as they navigate their way to the doors.

“Excited for the playoffs this semester?” he asks her.

“You know it!”

“I know, me too!” he cheers. “This is gonna be the first time in Wildcat history that both the girls’ and the guys’ teams have made it to the championship round in the same year. We’re gonna be legends!” He pats her back no softer than he would one of his bros, and Laura loves that he treats her the same way he treats anyone else. There’s no holding back just because she’s 5’2” and a girl. People are always too soft with her because of her stature, but Kirsch never is. He knows what Laura is capable of. He has ever since they were six when he’d tried to steal Laura’s chosen jersey number. Their coach had already said Laura could have it, and when she tossed a full-sized regulation basketball very intentionally at Kirsch’s crotch the way her dad had always taught her to if a man was ever mean to her, he very quickly learned his lesson. Laura still rocks Number 14. Kirsch settled for 8.

On their way to the door they pick up half of the boys’ basketball team and even a couple of the girls who all greet both Laura and Kirsch with pats on the shoulders and enthusiastic shouts of “Go Wildcats!” When they finally make it to the main building, Laura is surprised that their posse all fits through the door together. They kind of don’t, actually. They block the entire entrance way as they come in, and no one can get through their crowd to get in or out of the building.

Except for Perry. Perry manages to shove them aside and wave them out of her way as she leaves. No one really stops her, even though all of them probably could if they wanted to. No one ever stops Lola Perry from getting what she wants. She’s … very driven, to put it nicely. Laura doesn’t dislike her, but she does try to stay out of her way.

Even though no one stops her from separating their crowd, some guy on the basketball team makes a comment about Perry that Laura wouldn’t dare repeat in front of her dad and doesn’t dare to repeat now. She frowns slightly at it then looks to Perry protectively, but luckily Perry doesn’t seem to hear. LaFontaine definitely does, though. They scramble through the doors behind Perry racing to catch up with her, but they make sure to give a very pointed glare to Number 5 before they shut the door behind them. The guy who made the comment is too busy being complimented for his dis by the rest of the team to see LaFontaine or their look, and the only person who sees everything go down besides Laura is Danny who’s hanging out with the alchemy club by the bulletin board.

She rolls her eyes. “Misogynistic cavemen.”

Laura ignores that comment, too. She likes to stay passive. If she calls out everyone’s bullshit all the time, she’ll never have enough hours in the day for school work and basketball practice. She kinda just lets everyone ignore everyone and hopes the good things get overheard more often than the bad. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. Today, fortunately, is a day where it does.

///

“How many flyers do we have left?”

LaFontaine sorts through the papers in their arms, counting them silently. “Only six I think.”

“Good,” Perry praises. “We’ll put one in the gym, two in home room, three in the caf, and then the sign-up sheet in the hallway by the front doors. Sounds perfect.”

LaFontaine nods their approval. “Wanna help me hang them up?”

Perry grins. “If by help you mean make sure you don’t hang them up in the wrong spots, then yes.”

LaFontaine laughs and Perry smiles before leaning down to kiss them. It’s a short kiss, but it’s sweet, and LaFontaine’s glad they get it. They have a lot of work to do before homeroom starts, and they can’t afford to waste much time. “Show me where the gym is?”

Perry sighs, but grabs their hand and marches onward. It’s not LaFontaine’s fault they’ve never been to the gym. They have no reason to be there. They didn’t even have to take a gym class. Perry’d gotten them both out of the class by convincing the old principal that theatre was so athletic it may as well count for credit. They’re glad Perry did that when she did because neither of them know anything about the new principal or how to manipulate her and LaFontaine is not about to suffer through a class where they have to share a locker room with a bunch of people who don’t even share their gender. They get enough shit for being queer without being naked in front of everyone while they do it.

Perry leads because she’s at least been to the gym before. It isn’t her favorite thing to do but every once in a while she goes to watch one of Laura’s basketball games if she doesn’t have rehearsals. It only makes LaFontaine a little bit jealous. But that’s kind of the point.

LaFontaine spaces out on their walk because they’re still thinking about kissing Perry and it’s hot outside, especially when it’s so crowded on the quad. It makes them glad they have a hat. When they get there, LaFontaine has spaced out so much they probably couldn’t find their way back from the gym if they tried. They don’t really care, though. They’re here and they’re with Perry, and that’s all that matters.

The flyer for the upcoming musical looks way smaller than all the tapestries of basketball players scattered around the room, and LaFontaine is pretty conscious of it, but Perry doesn’t seem to notice. She just smiles at LaFontaine’s thumbtacking job and stares at the flyer in content.

“I love the winter musicals, don’t you?” she asks them, her hand on their shoulder. “I can’t wait to star in this one with you.”

LaFontaine nods their approval and lets Perry kiss them again. LaF really is pumped for this musical. This will be their eighteenth school production with Perry, and they can’t wait for JP to finish the first draft of compositions so they can finally start rehearsing some of the songs together for auditions next week. This is going to be an excellent semester. LaFontaine and Perry as the stars. JP making his debut as the composer. The three of them are going to do everything it takes to make sure this goes down as the best musical in Wildcat history.

Perry and LaFontaine rush to hang up a couple more flyers before homeroom starts. They still make plenty of time for kisses, though, too.

///

“Alright. Do you know where your first class is?”

“No.”

Lilita sighs. “You’ll find it.”

Carmilla nods. There’s no point in asking for help. Her mom probably doesn’t know where any of her classrooms are either. It’s her first day here too after all. Carmilla will find where she needs to go. She isn’t exactly fond of the idea of having to learn the layout of an entirely new school, but she’s done it before and she’ll probably have to do it again. She can find her first class.

She’s planning to leave to get there as soon as possible, but her mother has a habit of stopping Carmilla before she does a lot of the things she wants to do.

Lilita puts her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Promise me you’ll be good. I’ve got a two year contract here. If all goes well, you should be able to graduate right here in Albuquerque. You’ve got another year and a half here. Just. Make some good friends and get some scholarships. There are a lot of good schools around this area, and I want you to get into them.”

Carmilla nods. “I will.” She doesn’t doubt she’ll get the scholarship. She knows too many languages, won too many awards, been the projected valedictorian at too many schools not to be offered some kind of free ride at some sort of college somewhere in the U.S. It’s the friends thing she’s lying about. She doesn’t do friends anymore. Even if she is going to be in Albuquerque for the next year and a half, she’ll just have to leave whatever people she meets here for college. It’s not worth getting attached. None of her old friends, people she knew schools and schools ago, ever talk to her anymore, never call her, never text her, and at this point she isn’t even sure if she wants them to. They weren’t as good of friends as she thought.

There is one person she wants to talk to, though.

Her mom gives her one final reassuring pat on the back before telling her as lovingly as a principal can to her daughter while on the job to get to class.

Carmilla doesn’t know where she’s going, and she’s not really paying attention anyway. As soon as Laura enters her mind she can never stop thinking about her. They haven’t talked since New Years’ Eve, and Carmilla’s starting to wonder if she’ll ever call. It’s only been a few days, but still. She wants Laura to make the first move. She can’t bring herself to call first and sound as desperate as she probably is. She has to know that Laura is willing to put in the effort. It’s not like they see each other every day, and it’s not like they’ll probably ever see each other ever again, but if Laura is willing to make time to call her despite all of that, maybe they can at least be friends.

Carmilla might cave and text her, though. It’s been kind of a bad morning. She needs a distraction if she’s going to get through another first day of school without dreading everything about it. It’s a reasonable excuse, and she’s seriously considering pulling out her phone, but then she’s standing in front of the room she’s pretty sure is her homeroom and decides against it. Having her phone out in class isn’t exactly the best first impression she can make and she just promised her mom she would get along with her teachers.

She walks into the room, sits in the back row, and tries to forget about Laura.

///

For the first time basically ever, Kirsch decides that he doesn’t want to be late for class, and Laura is actually able to follow him into the room before the bell rings. They’re busy talking basketball and game plans, and Laura wonders if Kirsch is even aware of what time it is or where they are. He’s fully invested in Laura’s detailed description of the practice she and her dad had over winter break, and when he takes his seat behind her in homeroom, sitting on top of his desk instead of in his chair, he’s still listening and watching the ball he gave Laura twirl between her fingers.

She doesn’t tell him about Carmilla. She goes on about snowboarding with her dad and that weird pink jelly they were serving at the party instead. It was probably jello shots, Kirsch tells her. He’s probably right, but that didn’t make the stuff any less weird. It wasn’t as strange as her singing at the party, though. She doesn’t tell Kirsch about that part either.

Perry zooms in right before the bell with LaFontaine on her heels, but even though their hands are interlocked, Perry flashes Laura a toothy smile before she sits, and she’s all white teeth and immaculately pressed button-ups. Laura’s happy to be on Perry’s good side, but she’s not really sure why Perry seems so fond of her. They don’t really talk. Laura shoots her back an awkward smile and hopes it appeases her, and apparently it does. LaFontaine doesn’t look so happy about it, though. They glare at Laura the way they glared at Number 5 earlier, and Laura looks away from them at the same time they look across the room and wave to JP. When they go to sit by him, Perry tugs them back to her side and LaFontaine is forced to smile an awkward apology at their boyfriend. He grins back, but even Laura can see how disappointed he is.

There’s definitely something going on with those three, but Laura isn’t going to pry. It’s not her business.

Perry distracts her for so long that Laura doesn’t even notice most of the other people shuffling into the classroom. Kirsch is saying something to her about the Anglerfish game he went to at the college over break, but she’s not listening. Someone swoops in that catches her eye, and even though she can’t get a good look at the girl’s face over the crowd standing at the front of the room, something about her reminds Laura of Carmilla.

A lot of things have been reminding Laura about Carmilla these days, though; Pictures of her vacation, every female singer on the radio, and now apparently random girls with dark hair. She doesn’t know how to snap herself out of this fantasy. Or when she’s going to call Carmilla. Carmilla probably already thinks Laura hates her because she hasn’t called yet, but she’s so nervous. She has to find the right time. She can’t fuck it up, and between basketball practice and homework and having to meet up with all of her friends to hear about their winter breaks, it’s kind of hard to find a bit of peace and quiet where she can sit down and compose her thoughts.

She takes what she can get, though. She hangs the pictures on her wall, she turns the radio up, and she tries to twist her head in the new girl’s direction. More people just get in the way, though, and then the bell is ringing and Ms. Cochrane is speaking.

“Kirsch can you please get off your desk. I’ve told you a thousand times that the classroom is not a hockey arena.”

Kirsch knots his eyebrows, takes the ball back from Laura, and begrudgingly slumps into his chair. “This is a basketball, Ms. Cochrane, not a hockey puck.”

Ms. Cochrane shakes her head. “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t know. I’m the drama teacher. Just put it away.” As Kirsch sets the ball beneath his chair, she dramatically massages her temples as if dealing with him has already split her brain in two on the first day back. Maybe it has.

After a quick sigh, she claps her hands in front of her chest excitedly. “Speaking of musicals,” she starts. “I am more than happy to announce that the sign-up sheet for the winter musical auditions has been posted as of this morning by your very own Perry and LaFontaine.” Laura watches the two of them smile at each other when Ms. Cochrane says their names. “Not to mention, the musical numbers for this play have been composed by our very own J.P. Armitage.” J.P. looks bashful, but LaF smiles at him. It makes Laura smile a little bit, too. “Auditions will be held in exactly one week, and I hope to see at least a few of you there.” Ms. Cochrane pointedly eyes Perry and LaFontaine and as co-presidents of the drama club they return her grin.

Of course they’ll be there. Laura wouldn’t be surprised if Perry and LaFontaine already signed up. They’re always in the school musicals. Perry invites her almost every semester, but Laura never goes because the dates usually conflict with her basketball games. Not that she usually finds the idea of going to the theatre appealing. She might though, this semester. She’s heard J.P. play the piano from outside the band room before, and he’s pretty good. Plus it doesn’t hurt that musicals seem to be yet another thing that remind her of Carmilla.

Carmilla.

Her attention reverts suddenly back to the new girl again, and Laura can’t help but spin around and try to see where she’s sitting. Behind Kirsch there’s a wisp of dark hair that reminds her of snow and fireworks, but Kirsch’s head is too big and too in the way. She ducks around him to get a better look, but Ms. Cochrane slaps a ruler on her desk and snaps Laura’s focus back to the front of the room.

“Ms. Hollis. Please pay attention. I’m giving you a warning.”

Laura sags in her seat, sinks as deep as she can because her efforts are useless and she really doesn’t want to get in trouble. That hair, though. She’d remember it. She does remember it. She knows she’s been crazy ever since this stupid crush on some stranger she’d met in the middle of the mountains developed, but she’s almost sure this isn’t one of her hallucinations. Only so many people exist with hair that Laura can’t stop thinking about running her fingers through.

She knows it’s stupid, but she’s a risk taker. Her dad tells her to play safe, to make the plays she knows are going to work in her favor, but what kind of captain would she be if she was safe and predictable all the time? A good captain takes chances, keeps her teammates on their toes, and surprises everyone, even herself. Laura stealthily slips her phone out of her pocket under her desk, finds Carmilla’s name, and presses call.

She expects silence. She expects her phone to ring a couple of times until she fully tests her theory and hangs up before Carmilla can answer on the other side of the world wherever she may live.

That’s not what happens, though. Someone’s phone rings, and suddenly everyone is digging through their pockets and their purses to see if the ringtone is calling out to them. Whispers erupt from every corner of the classroom, but none of the chaos even closely resembles the level of disorder in Laura’s mind.

///

“Enough!”

Carmilla wouldn’t even know Ms. Cochrane’s name if it wasn’t written on the board in large, scrawling letters, but she’s already slightly terrified of her. That never happens. Usually the only person Carmilla fears upsetting is her mom, but she definitely doesn’t want to get on Ms. Cochrane’s bad side either. She rationalizes it. Getting in trouble with Ms. Cochrane will lead to getting in trouble with the principal. She’s okay with thinking of it on those terms. Her fright has nothing to do with the way Ms. Cochrane peers over the tops of her glasses like she knows something more than all of them, like she’s dealt with misbehaving students for centuries, and has everything to do with the fact that her mom is the looming figure behind her new homeroom teacher.

Scared or not, Carmilla’s definitely going to get in trouble, though. She knows instantly that her phone is the one ringing. The ringtone is too recognizable and too close to her ear.

No one else seems to know that, though. The two kids in front of her, the ones Ms. Cochrane had called Ferry and La-something or another, tap the screens of their phones incessantly trying to view messages that they haven’t been sent. The ringing still interrupts the class despite their best efforts, and Carmilla thinks she has a moment to stealthily reach down into her bag and silence her phone while no one is paying attention. She lunges into her bag just as Ms. Cochrane starts handing out detentions.

“LaFontaine! Perry! I expected better of you two! You know my rules about cellphones in class. Put them on my desk immediately.”

Perry gasps and pouts before she and LaFontaine begrudgingly place their Blackberries on Ms. Cochrane’s desk. Carmilla scurries as quickly as possible to grab her phone out of her bag while all three of them are distracted, and she silently prays thanks to a god she doesn’t believe in when she finds it. When she looks at the screen, her throat goes dry.

There could not have been a worse possible time for Laura to call her.

She stares at Laura’s picture on her phone in shock for so long that she forgets she’s on a time limit. She can’t bring herself to ignore Laura’s call, even though she really can’t answer it right now. She freezes and forgets that she has to do something.

“Ms. Karnstein,” Ms. Cochrane proclaims. “I know you’re new here, but that is no excuse. A principal’s daughter should behave better, and I expect more from you, too. I want to see your phone on my front desk, and I want to see you in detention this afternoon.”

Detention. Fuck. Carmilla really cannot afford to get detention. And on her first day of school. Her mom is not going to be happy about this.

But what can she do? She rises slowly from her seat, giving Ms. Cochrane more than enough time to change her mind and dole out mercy. She doesn’t. It physically hurts Carmilla when she’s forced to lay her phone down at the desk at front of the room. She doesn’t break the rules. Or at least, she never gets caught breaking them.

An excuse is already forming on her tongue to tell to her mother later as she reaches the head of the room, but that’s only to use if she doesn’t figure a way out of detention before the news travels to her mother. She’s too smart not to be able to come up with some kind of solution in the next eight hours, and she’s sure she will. When she turns around to go back to her seat, though, she’s startled out of all of her plotting.

Laura is sitting right in front of her.

Their eyes lock and Laura smiles at her in that ‘I’m too good to be true’ way, and Carmilla is so taken aback that Ms. Cochrane bumps into her on her way back to the head of the room.

“Please take your seat, Ms. Karnstein.”

Ms. Cochrane’s words are another warning, another threat, but Carmilla couldn’t care less about getting in trouble now. Laura’s here. Laura goes to her school. Carmilla gapes at her and neither of them can keep the grin out of their eyes.

Ms. Cochrane’s gaze follows Carmilla’s, and not only does Carmilla get herself in trouble because of it, she gets Laura in trouble, too. Ms. Cochrane sees her phone.

“Ms. Hollis, you too? I’m afraid you’ll be in detention this afternoon as well. Please place your phone on the front desk.”

Laura doesn’t even frown as she stands. She has no qualms about the punishment. If anyone deserves it, it’s her. She’s the one who called Carmilla in the middle of class in the first place. When Carmilla realizes this, too, she feels a touch less guilty about getting Laura caught. It’s hard for Carmilla to be anything but happy. This is surreal.

Suddenly Carmilla isn’t even all that mad about detention anymore. Laura’s going to be there. Even if she has to go back to her seat right now, she’ll get to see Laura after school, and she doesn’t want anything to ruin that opportunity. This blemish on her record will be worth it. She’ll deal with her mom and the colleges later. Laura’s more important to her right now, however selfish that sounds to her future.

///

Laura surrenders her phone without hesitation in a state of surreal bliss, but Kirsch has no cute girls to distract him and is a bit more vocal about his objection. “You can’t give Laura detention, Ms. Cochrane. We have basketball practice after school. She’s the captain. She has to be there.” Kirsch crosses his arms over his chest victoriously, but Ms. Cochrane stares him down.

“For that comment, you’ll now serve detention too, Mr. Kirsch.”

Kirsch’s mouth clamps shut, and Danny’s shoots open at the opportunity to chide him. “Kirsch can’t serve detention for you today either, Ms. Cochrane,” she starts. “I’m sure some other teacher’s already given it to him first.”

Kirsch spins around in his desk to look at Danny with fire in his eyes the color of her hair. He huffs and starts to say something before Ms. Cochrane cuts him off. “If you don’t think Brody can’t make it, Ms. Lawrence, perhaps you’d like to fill in for him. I’ll see you in detention as well.”

Laura’s never seen Danny so pale. This is not going to be good for her permanent record. Or the school. No respectable alchemy club has a president that gets detention, and their club hasn’t been doing so great in its competitions the last few years already. Laura feels sorry for her for only the briefest of seconds before she remembers she has herself to feel sorry for too. Or not. Detention doesn’t sound so bad when she’ll get to talk to Carmilla while she’s there. It’s also maybe not her first time painting sets with Ms. Cochrane in the theatre after school. The basketball teams pull a lot of pranks they usually end up paying for.

Laura’s typically okay with detention. She doesn’t get it often enough that her dad scolds her, and usually she can blame it on Kirsch or Elsie or someone else on one of the teams. Today, though, she’s excited for detention. She’s so anxious to talk to Carmilla that she waits for her after class.

When homeroom ends, Laura stalls outside the door, watching Kirsch and Perry and LaFontaine and everyone else leave until Carmilla is the only one left to come through the exit. Laura cuts her off as soon as she does, and the words come out of her mouth before she finds the right ones. “Hey.”

Carmilla’s face lights up, and it’s impossible for Laura to feel nervous when this girl is looking at her like that. “Hey,” she says back lightly.

They stare at each other for a moment, taking in the reality of the situation until someone else escapes the room behind Carmilla and brushes past Laura’s shoulder on the way around her. Laura is fairly certain it was Rose but she doesn’t pay attention. Her eyes are focused on Carmilla until Mary bumps into her too and Laura realizes that she and Carmilla should probably start walking or at least move out of the doorway. Laura sets her pace slowly, urging Carmilla to follow her and she does. “You go here?” Laura asks.

Carmilla nods. “Yep. Just transferred here. My mom’s kind of the principal, so.” She says it sheepishly, like she’s not proud of the fact and maybe shouldn’t have admitted it so soon. Laura wonders if Carmilla thinks she’ll be treated differently because of who her mom is, and she understands that feeling all too well. She gets crap for her dad being the basketball coach all the time, especially because he’s her basketball coach and she’s the captain of the team. She ignores it, though. She hopes Carmilla can do the same.

“Wow, that’s awesome!” Laura says way too excitedly. She chides herself for appearing too enthusiastic, but she does mean it. The girl she’s been crushing on for a week now goes to her school and knows what it’s like to be a faculty child? How much more can fate give them in common? Laura doesn’t even know her that well, but as she watches Carmilla look down at the schedule on top of her stack of books, she decides that she wants to get to know everything about her. She’ll do anything to get Carmilla to stick around. “Do you need some help finding your classes? I’ve been here for three years and my dad’s the basketball coach, so I kind of know my way around.”

Laura says it as nonchalantly and modestly as possible, but Carmilla raises her eyebrow. “The basketball coach? I didn’t peg you as someone who grew up around sports.” Carmilla’s words are teasing and there’s a smile on her face and in her eyes, but Laura defends herself anyway because she’s got her defense memorized like a play on the court by now.

She buffs her chest out proudly. “I’m actually the captain of the girls’ varsity team,” she brags.

“No,” Carmilla says, and Laura can tell she really doesn’t believe it.

“Yep,” Laura says smugly, turning around so that Carmilla can see the number 14 on the back of her jacket under ‘Hollis.’

Carmilla stares at her shirt like she’s memorizing Laura’s name. “But you’re…”

“5’2”?” Laura asks. “I know,” she starts. “Everyone says that. But trust me, when your dad is the coach, you practice a lot and get good really fast, no matter how short you are. Just cause I can’t dunk doesn’t mean I can’t shoot more three-pointers than anyone else on the team.”

“Wow.” Carmilla stares at her in disbelief, only this time Laura knows she believes every word she says. She should. Laura tries not to lie. Her dad always taught her that honesty was important, almost as important as standing up for yourself and proving people wrong when they think you aren’t capable of something just because of the way you look or your gender or your height or whatever it may be people judge you for. Laura feels more than a bit of satisfaction at the fact that she’s impressed this cute girl, a cute girl who’s the new principal’s daughter, no less. That’s a huge deal to her. Carmilla seems to think so, too. She sticks around and seems to take Laura up on her offer. “Do you know where the math wing is?”

That’s probably the wing of the school Laura knows the least about, but Danny spends a lot of time there, and she’s pretty sure LaF has a bio class somewhere around there, so, yeah, she does know where it is. She acts a bit more confident about knowing where it is than she’s entitled to be, though, just for the sake of impressing Carmilla again. “Sure do! Come on. It’s just up these stairs.” For just a second Laura thinks about grabbing her hand and holding it like they did on New Year’s Eve, but Carmilla is holding too many books. It’s a two handed effort. “I can help you carry some of those if you want,” Laura offers instead.

Carmilla looks down and then shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. “It’s okay. I can handle it. I’m used to having a lot of books. Sometimes I take extra classes. Principal’s daughter and all. Thanks for the offer, though, cutie.” Carmilla winks and Laura blushes as scarlet as her jersey.

To rid of herself of her embarrassment, Laura plans on launching into another very unhumble rant about how she knows everyone and everything about East Silas High since she’s gotten pretty popular amongst the student body and the faculty by leading the basketball team to the championships, but the two of them don’t even make it to the end of the hallway before Laura’s popularity comes back to bite her in the ass. They’re stopped by none other than Perry at the bulletin board by the front doors.

“Laura!”

Laura pauses to greet her out of obligation and Carmilla stops beside her as well. She gives Perry the most polite smile she can without letting on that she’s secretly very selfishly hoping Perry makes this quick so she can get back to walking Carmilla to class. Alone. “Hey, Perry.”

Perry flashes stark white teeth at her. “Hi! Who’s your new friend?” She eyes Carmilla with a touch of genuine interest and Laura can only hope that Perry doesn’t find her as attractive as she does.

“I’m Carmilla,” Carmilla says on her own before Laura can introduce her.

“Carmilla.” Perry tests the name on her tongue. “That sounds like a great stage name.” To Perry that’s the epitome of a compliment. Her words are meant to be an ice breaker, but when she sticks out her hand to Carmilla and says, “I’m Lola Perry. My partner and I are co-presidents of the drama club and the Student Government Association. We sort of run things around here. It’s nice to meet you, Carmilla,” Carmilla doesn’t have a free hand to shake hers with. She turns to Laura and raises an eyebrow instead, and Laura doesn’t blame her. She’s fairly intimidated by Perry herself, and apparently Perry’s a bit too straightforward for Carmilla as well.

Perry looks somewhat offended that she’s left hanging, but she quickly retracts her hand and transitions through the discomfort like the acting pro she is. “You wouldn’t be interested in signing up for our musical, would you? LaFontaine and I always play the lead roles, but the drama department is always looking for extras. It’s a wonderful way for new students to become acquainted with East Silas.” Perry’s smile is diplomatic, stretched thin. If Laura doesn’t buy it, Carmilla sees immediately through Perry’s bullshit like it’s transparent. The two of them look at each other at the mention of the musical though, and they both know they’re both thinking about the singing they did together on New Years’ Eve.

“No, thanks,” Carmilla says after a moment with a single shoulder shrug. “I prefer to do my own thing.”

It’s her second strike in Perry’s book, but this time when the scene she had planned in her mind goes wrong, Perry flubs her line. “Well, then…” She trails off in search of words she has no chance of finding and offers Carmilla a brief smile in return, hoping she pulls it off well enough.

“Oh!” Perry quickly pulls the pen from the clipboard Laura’s never seen her without and shuffles between the pair to the bulletin board. The metal wire hanging from the pen prevents it from separating from the clipboard farther than six inches, but that doesn’t stop Perry from using it to sign her name on the auditions list, the perfectly legible letters of her name taking up exactly one line on the list from top to bottom and left to right. Laura watches Carmilla’s eyebrows ascend into her hairline.

“Nice penmanship,” she jokes. Laura laughs.

Even Perry can sense the sarcasm. It’s Carmilla’s third strike, and Perry is officially done with her. Before she leaves she presents one last peace offering, though she looks solely at Laura while she delivers it. “Well, I hope to see both of you at the show. Especially you, Laura.” This time when her lips curl upward her smile is real.

“Uh. Maybe, Perry. I’m pretty busy with basketball, you know.” Laura makes sure to give Perry a soft ‘no’ out of kindness, but she makes even more of a point to let Carmilla know just how much she is not excited in any capacity by the idea of going to a school musical production just to see Perry star in it. Even if Perry is pretty in the conventional sense, she’s already got LaFontaine, and Laura is about a hundred times more interested in Carmilla.

She’s pretty sure Carmilla knows that, too.

When Perry finally leaves, Laura looks to her to apologize. “Sorry about that.”

Carmilla nods in agreement. “So she’s kind of… intense. You’re friends with her?” The question is intentional, calculated, more than it appears to be on the surface.

“No,” Laura states firmly. “I’ve just known Perry since, like, kindergarten, so it’s hard to avoid her. I think she has a bit of a crush on me, but I don’t like her like that. Plus, she’s already dating LaFontaine. I mean, I’m pretty sure they have an open relationship, but… I’m still not interested in her.”

Carmilla nods, taking each word in. “Anyone you are interested in?” she asks coyly.

Laura blushes again. Around Carmilla her face seems to permanently match her jersey color, and Laura wonders if this is what Danny feels like whenever she wears red. Laura shrugs, pointedly looking Carmilla in the eye. “Maybe.”

Carmilla smiles, and it’s the first time she has since they’ve run into Perry. Laura feels proud for and cheering Carmilla up again and not letting Perry ruin their moment. They both walk on with grins.

Once they’re at the top of the stairs, Laura realizes just how close the math wing actually is. She knows she only has five minutes to get to class – and considerably less time than that at this point – but five minutes with Carmilla doesn’t seem like enough. She’ll probably be late, but oh well. At least Carmilla won’t be tardy for her first class. And what’s Laura’s first period teacher going to do, give her detention? It’s a little late for that.

“I don’t know what room number you’re looking for, but here we are. Most of the classes up here are math classes, I’m pretty sure.”

Carmilla looks to her schedule again, then up at the plaques on the front of the rooms. “It’s just right here,” she points, and Laura’s sad their walk is over. Carmilla turns to her one last time. “Thanks for walking me here, cutie.”

Laura can definitely get used to that nickname. “No problem,” she says sheepishly. “I’d say if you needed any more help finding your classes later you could just call me, but, uh, I guess that’s not much of an option now. Sorry about the whole detention thing, by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carmilla dismisses. Laura breathes a sigh of relief. “And I’ll be able to find my way around,” she adds. “I’m a big girl.”

Laura laughs and nods. Carmilla seems more than capable of taking care of herself, and if there’s one thing Laura can respect it’s another woman’s independence. She wishes her own sense of self was as strong as Carmilla’s. It’s hard when her dad is always around, though, although that doesn’t seem like much of an excuse when Carmilla does it with her mom around so often. It’s just another thing about this stranger for Laura to admire.

They’re quiet for a moment outside of Carmilla’s classroom, and Laura really should be getting to class now too, but she doesn’t want to ruin the moment. It reminds her of New Years’ Eve and how they’d almost kissed at the end of the night. She kind of wants to kiss Carmilla now, too, but obviously she isn’t going to. It’s uncalled for at this point. No new years are heralding long-standing romantic traditions, and Carmilla is just a new kid who transferred to her school. Laura hopes she isn’t a stranger for much longer, though. She’s already feeling like they’re closer.

The bell knocks them back into reality. Laura’s forced to pick up the pace. “I guess I’ll see you after school,” she says hopefully.

“I guess you will,” Carmilla says back. “I’ll talk to you later, cupcake.”

 _Cupcake_. Yeah, hearing that is worth the extra couple seconds Laura sticks around to stare at Carmilla’s smile.

She’s happy basketball practice trained her to sprint so quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla meets Danny, LaFerry plots, and Hollstein have a moment alone together.

Carmilla Karnstein isn’t usually one to space out during math class, but it’s the first day back and her pre-calc teacher is explaining things so slowly. Carmilla worked out the problem on the board five minutes ago, and now she’s doodling in the margins of her new notebook, looking up every once in a while to see when this teacher is finally going to move on and realize not everyone in the class needs so much time to readjust to learning after vacation.

She may or may not be scribbling Laura’s initials into the corner of her paper. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but she can’t help it at this point. She saw Laura’s last name on the back of her jersey and Laura Hollis has such a nice ring to it. There’s definite facebook stalking potential in knowing Laura’s full name, and Carmilla’s kind of glad she got her phone taken away because that’s most likely what she’d be doing right now if she still had it. That or texting Laura. It doesn’t feel weird to think about messaging her now. They met. They talked. They walked to class together. Carmilla is still having trouble taking it all in.

When Carmilla looks up again, Ms. Rodriguez still isn’t finished, and now she’s not even solving the problem the right way. Carmilla doesn’t even have to double check her math to know that her teacher has part of the equation written wrong on the board. So much for the great school system her mom promised her this was. She should have expected her mother would lie to her. “Incompetent idiot,” she whispers under her breath, and she’s not sure which of the three of them she’s talking about.

She tries to say it quietly, but whispers aren’t quiet enough in a noiseless room, and Carmilla gets more than a few sketchy looks from the other students around her. She ignores them until the teacher turns around, too. Apparently the entire room heard her.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Karnstein?”

Ms. Rodriguez’s eyes are locked onto Carmilla’s, but she doesn’t seem angry. She just heard that Carmilla was talking, not what she was actually saying, and Carmilla takes the opportunity to cover her ass and save herself while she still can.

“Uh, your equation is wrong,” she corrects as innocently as possible, holding back her eye roll. “It’s sixteen over pi, not thirty-two.”

The room is hushed as everyone stares at her.

Ms. Rodriguez takes Carmilla’s words as a challenge, and Carmilla can see the fight in her eyes. She turns to look at the board, then shifts her attention to the calculator on her desk. When she finishes punching in the numbers, she grabs the eraser off its ledge and fixes her mistake. “Looks like you’re right, Ms. Karnstein. Sorry about that, guys.”

The entire class groans as they flip their pencils around to their erasers to fix their work. Carmilla smirks.

Most of the eyes around the room go back to their papers, but Carmilla can still feel one pair staring at her, burning a hole in the top of her head from way too high up in the air. Teenagers shouldn’t be able to grow that tall, Carmilla thinks, and she would probably bet her life savings that the six foot redhead beside her is on the basketball team with Laura. Maybe not, though. Jocks aren’t usually smart enough to take pre-calc, and Carmilla can tell that the girl beside her isn’t an idiot. She's the only other one in the room who doesn’t scramble to fix her work because she doesn’t have to. She already has the right answer, too.

Ms. Rodriguez is talking again, walking through her mistake with the class, and Carmilla feels comfortable whispering with the background noise. "Got a problem?" she asks simply, tilting her chin upward. She's glad she doesn't have to strain this much to look at Laura.

"Not at all," the redhead says. "I'm Danny by the way." She sticks out a hand as she introduces herself. Carmilla doesn't set her calculator down to shake it. Danny recovers smoother from the rejection better than Perry did. She cocks her eyebrows the slightest bit, but Danny has no act she has to put on, unlike the co-president of the drama department.

"I'm Carmilla," Carmilla answers, and she's already introduced herself more times in one day than she has during entire semesters at other schools. It's awkward for her.

"You're smart," Danny says, and it's not a question.

"Yep," Carmilla agrees. 

"You should join the Alchemy Club," Danny mentions offhandedly, and this time Carmilla is the one to raise her eyebrows.

"You mean to tell me a bunch of high school students mastered the art of turning dirt into gold when centuries of scientific predecessors before them couldn’t?"

Danny laughs. Carmilla was trying to be snarky, not funny. She frowns. "Not exactly," Danny explains. "It's just a chemistry club. We call it the Alchemy Club because it sounds cooler. There's a lot of math and stuff involved too, though. You'd be a good fit."

First some high-strung June Cleaver tries to convince her to try out for a musical, and now an amazon wants to mix chemicals in a lab with her after school? What is this, rush week? Carmilla hasn't been in a club since elementary school, and that's only if you count hanging out with the couple of other kids with busy parents who got picked up from school a half hour later than everyone else a club, and Carmilla's not sure she does. She just wants to do her school work. Usually that's not a problem. Apparently extracurriculars are mandatory here at East Silas, though. Everyone seems to have something they do. If Carmilla's going to join a club, though, she's going to have a better clique than the chemistry nerds whose idea of cool is calling themselves the Alchemy Club.

"Probably not," Carmilla objects. "I just moved here. I'm not ready to join any clubs." It's an excuse, but it's one that works. Danny seems to back off.

"Alright, but the offer still stands. If you change your mind, just talk to me. I'm the club president." 

Danny picks up her pencil and starts another problem that Carmilla didn’t even notice Ms. Rodriguez had put on the board. They work side by side for a few moments in silence until they finish within seconds of each other, Carmilla setting her pen down just a moment before Danny who smirks at her again, impressed. Carmilla thinks her smile is all the comment Danny’s going to make, but she's wrong. "You should sit with us at lunch," Danny offers. "We're the table by the trashcan."

Of course they are.

She’ll pass. Even if she doesn’t get to see Laura at lunch – and she very much plans on looking for Laura at lunch – Carmilla will find her own corner of the cafeteria to sit in just like she always does. She has no intentions to sit with Danny. “I’ll think about it, Red.”

///

The school library sucks. These computers are about a hundred times slower than her Blackberry, and Perry is about two seconds away from bribing Ms. Cochrane into giving her her phone back early. She has schedules to keep up. All of her to-do lists for the day are on her phone. Losing it is like losing a limb, and these computers are a shitty prosthetic replacement. At least LaFontaine is here with her. Someone understands her pain.

“So,” Perry starts, needing to do something while her email loads. “That Carmilla girl seems nice.”

LaFontaine raises an eyebrow at her over their monitor. “’Nice?’” They question. “Perr, I heard her call our pre-calc teacher an idiot this morning. Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

Somehow that story hadn’t made its way to Perry yet, but it doesn’t improve her already soiled image of Carmilla. LaFontaine is right. She doesn’t think Carmilla is all that nice from what she’s seen of her so far, but Perry isn’t one to admit that. She’ll always give people the benefit of the doubt when she refers to them, even if she doesn’t always stay as polite in her mind. “Well, Laura seems to think she’s nice,” Perry defends. “I saw them walking to class together earlier.”

LaFontaine knows something’s up with Perry, but they aren’t quite sure what it is yet. “Laura was probably just hanging out with her because she’s the principal’s daughter. You know the basketball team is always thirsty for as much funding as they can get. Laura was probably just sucking up.”

LaFontaine’s words are supposed to cheer Perry up, but they make her frown instead. “I don’t think that was the only reason,” Perry starts. “But if that is part of the reason, we should probably keep them away from each other, right? The basketball teams already get more funding than anybody else, and if we can convince the new principal to give the theatre department a bigger budget this year we can afford to have one less bake sale which will leave us with more time to rehearse.” Perry knows LaFontaine likes the idea of rehearsing more often. It has almost as much to do with who their rehearsal pianist is as the fact that they love performing, and even if Perry is slightly offended by that, she’ll use their weakness to her advantage in order to get her argument across.

Perry’s words are laced in a tone of innocence, but LaFontaine finally picks up on what they think she’s trying to say. “Perry, are you jealous that Laura is talking to another girl? ‘Cause don’t be. You’ve got me.” LaFontaine gives her the biggest shit-eating grin they can muster. It’s the kind of open-mouthed smile that made Perry fall in love with them in the first place all those years ago when she watched LaFontaine enthusiastically play the lead role opposite her in their kindergarten school production. She was smitten with LaF from day one of rehearsals, and she’ll never feel that kind of pull towards Laura.

LaFontaine doesn’t have to know that, though.

She shrugs sheepishly, cautious not to lie and to let LaFontaine infer whatever they want from her gestures. “We should keep Carmilla away from Laura, anyway,” she presses. “Like you said, she’s bad news.”

LaFontaine nods their agreement. Laura’s nice, even if they are jealous of her. She could be with someone better than Carmilla – not that LaFontaine wants that person to be Perry. Lafontaine wouldn’t stop the two of them from dating if it were to happen, though. Their relationship is open. They and Perry are both free to date whomever they choose. Perry let LaFontaine have J.P, so it’s only fair LaFontaine lets Perry have whoever she wants, too. Even if they don't approve.

LaFontaine spaces out for a moment, but Perry isn’t done bashing Carmilla. “I saw her looking at our auditions list.” LaFontaine raises an eyebrow. “She said she wasn’t interested in the musical, but still. I told her we had extra roles if she wanted to try out, but we don’t. I was trying to be welcoming since she’s a new student, but we really don’t need someone new coming in and ruining the entire structure of our show. We already have to turn so many people away, and we’d have to find something for her to do, and –“

“Perr.” LaFontaine cuts her off with a raised hand, looking at her screen. “Your email is loaded. Plus, I don’t think you have to worry about Carmilla auditioning. Musicals don’t seem like her thing. And Danny was trying to get her to join the Alchemy Club earlier.”

“Well,” Perry considers, scrolling through her notifications. Nobody has anything too interesting to say to her, but there is a sale on printer ink at Staples. That might be exciting to shop for later. “Let’s make sure she joins them,” she decides. “There’s more room for her in the Alchemy Club than the drama department. Our show needs to go off without a hitch. I know she’s the principal’s daughter and we probably should let her in, but she’d just end up getting in the way.”

Both of them quiet for a moment. Perry deletes a few more messages, and LaFontaine gives up on waiting for their own computer to load. They’re excruciatingly bored in the silence until they speak again. “You know, I saw Laura looking at the sign-up sheet, too.”

Perry’s eyes dart up like LaFontaine screamed, ‘Fire!’ and in her defense it wouldn’t be the first time that had happened. She almost brings a nail to the corner of her mouth to bite it, but she just painted them. Sunshine yellow doesn’t look good on her fingers when it’s chipped. Plus she was just touching the keyboard, which is absolutely not sanitary. She’ll have to scrub her hands in the bathroom for minutes after they leave the library.

“You don’t think Laura would want to audition do you?” LaFontaine doesn’t know why they sound so scared when they say it. Or rather, they know exactly why they’re afraid and they don’t want to admit it. If Laura auditioned, it would mean she was trying to get closer to Perry. LaFontaine’s stomach knots.

Perry shakes her head so furiously her curls almost spring into her mouth. “No, not Laura. She has basketball. She said she probably couldn’t even make it to the show because she’s too busy. I don’t know why she’d be looking at the sing-up sheet. Maybe for Carmilla.”

“Maybe,” LaF shrugs, and suddenly even this conversation is boring them. A wicked grin spreads across half their face. “Want to go make out behind the reference section?” they whisper.

Perry’s hand stills on her mouse as she blushes. “I don’t think that’s in the schedule,” she chides politely.

LaFontaine leans farther across the table. “I don’t think I care.”

They really shouldn’t. It’s so not on the schedule, and it’s against the library’s rules. But Perry doesn’t think she cares either. She’s never been one to pass up an opportunity to make out with LaFontaine. After a short second of chewing on her lip, she closes her browser and shuts down the computer.

///

The cafeteria is huge. It has two levels and at least a hundred tables, and Carmilla has no idea how she’s going to find Laura in the crowd. She finds Danny pretty easily, though. She wasn’t lying. She and a bunch of nerdy kids Carmilla can only assume are the members of the Alchemy Club sit at the bottom of one of the stairwells, adjacent to a trashcan Carmilla can smell all the way from the top of the steps.

She doesn’t want to go downstairs purely out of risk of Danny seeing her, but when she turns around, Perry is at a table dead center on the upper level, and she doesn’t really want to run into her either. She roams fruitlessly for a few minutes, before she surrenders and takes the stairs, walking down them and rushing past Danny’s table as quickly as possible to avoid her line of sight. The room is so crowded she gets by her easily, even with Danny’s head towering over the entire room like a watch guard. It isn’t too far past the Alchemy Club table that Carmilla finds who she’s looking for.

Of course the basketball team would have the table in the middle of the room as far away from the trashcans as possible. Carmilla should have looked there first. It takes her a moment of combing through the table’s inhabitants to find Laura, though. She’s swallowed by the mass of sweaty dudes in muscle shirts and girls about as tall as Danny, and Laura looks out of place amongst them all, like a girlfriend of one of the jocks or a younger sibling no one is happy was brought along. The whole table seems to love Laura, though. She’s talking and laughing and looks perfectly welcomed in the group. All eyes are on her, and Carmilla suddenly remembers that Laura’s the captain of the team. Of course she’s welcomed. She belongs here. Carmilla is the one who doesn’t. She doesn’t want to bother Laura when she’s with her friends.

She’s about to walk away when Laura spots her and calls her over with an enthusiastic wave. If this were anyone else, Carmilla would just pretend she didn’t see her and walk away, but this is Laura and instead she marches slowly over towards the girl no matter how awkward she feels standing next to the group of jocks. Laura’s smile brightens her mood, though. She feels welcomed at least by her.

Laura stands from her seat to greet her, and the fact that she’s practically eye level with Carmilla reminds Carmilla of how short she herself is. She tries to straighten her spine a little bit, hoping it makes her look both taller and more confident. Laura tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Hey,” Laura greets her.

Carmilla fights her grin. “Hey.”

“Do you have anywhere to sit?”

Carmilla shrugs nonchalantly, appearing calmer than she actually is. “I was just about to look for a place,” she only partially lies.

Laura’s head darts down to her table, and for a moment Carmilla thinks she’s going to invite her to sit with the basketball teams, but instead she reaches down and grabs the half-eaten contents of her tray. She looks nervously around the table, waiting for someone to ask her what’s she’s doing, but when no one stops her, Laura turns back to Carmilla, speaking at her normal volume which is almost whispering in the noisy caf. “Come on. I know a good place to eat.”

Carmilla steps forward to follow Laura selfishly. Any place Laura is ditching her friends to take her alone is a place Carmilla wants to be. She’s trying not to think about the eating she wants to do with Laura when one of the basketball players finally notices Laura’s absence. He looks surprised to see Laura almost as tall as his seated height when she’s standing.

“Dude!” he reaches out as if to grab her, but one swift glare from Laura makes him quickly retract his hand. He turns around to face her questioningly, and Carmilla recognizes him as the boy who got detention for standing up for Laura during homeroom. She isn’t thrilled at the idea of having him in detention with them to distract Laura from her later like he is now. “Where ya going?” he asks innocently, blue eyes level with Laura’s brown.

“Oh, uh, I’m just going to show Carmilla around.” She gestures to an annoyed Carmilla shuffling impatiently from foot to foot, silently hating Captain Nosy for cutting into her time with Laura.

Kirsch eyes Carmilla curiously. For a moment she thinks he can sense that she isn’t the biggest fan of him. His smile is too kind, though. Thankfully he doesn’t get it. “Who’s this?” he asks Laura politely, as if she hadn’t already said Carmilla’s name.

“This is my friend Carmilla,” Laura elaborates carefully, introducing Carmilla to the rest of the basketball team as well. Most of the table has turned their attention back to her. “She’s new.”

Kirsch looks a little skeptical, like he knows Laura’s keeping something from him, but Carmilla can’t bring herself to care.

Laura had called her her friend.

She has a friend now. It’s something. It’s more than Carmilla has had in a long time. She can’t stop herself from wishing she and Laura could have more, though.

Before Kirsch can say anything, Laura cuts him off. “I’ll see you guys in the gym during free period later.” The finality in her voice is intentional, and she rushes off before the table can even bid her goodbye. She shoots Carmilla a quick look and Carmilla is shuffling her feet again behind Laura within a second. Carmilla isn’t sure where they’re going when they start moving again, but she doesn’t expect Laura to lead her out of the dining room entirely.

“God, there isn’t a third level to this infernal cafeteria is there?” she asks.

Laura giggles. “No. I’m showing you someplace else. It’s kind of like my secret hiding spot.”

Day One and Carmilla is already gaining access into Laura’s secret hiding places – her friend’s secret hiding places. If this much can happen in a day of knowing each other, what happens after two days? Carmilla isn’t sure, but if it’s some sort of flirting or the hand holding she’d probably be bold enough to try for right now if they weren’t both holding lunch trays, she isn’t going to complain about it. This can move as fast as Laura wants it to. It scares Carmilla to think that she’s so eager for it all.

Carmilla’s jello sloshes wildly on her plate as they climb the stairs together. It reminds her of the jello shots set out at the ski resort on New Year’s, how Laura intoxicated her more than any weird pink jelly ever could that night.

Laura doesn’t seem to be nearly as out of breath as Carmilla when they reach the roof, and Carmilla almost vows to be less lazy from this moment on. Almost. Then she figures she and Laura balance each other out. The athletic captain of the basketball team will want to date the girl whose idea of weight lighting is carrying around a four hundred pound backpack full of books because opposites attract or some cliché bullshit. When her feet finally rest on solid ground, though, she still tries to disguise her labored breathing.

Carmilla likes the roof to East Silas at first glance. It’s big, it’s open, and it’s the perfect place to lay back and look up at the stars. She’s instantly plotting how often she’ll be able to sneak out of the house and break into the school to come up here on clear nights, but as soon as her mind wanders off, Laura hip checks her to get her attention. She leads her farther across the roof.

“We’re technically not supposed to be up here, since this is Alchemy Club territory, but I know Danny and a couple of the other members, so they let me come up here sometimes. And don’t worry, the mushrooms have only ever grown taller than six feet, like, a couple of times. And usually the spores aren’t deadly poisonous.”

If there’s one thing Carmilla can appreciate as much as the stars, it’s nature, and she has to admit that Big Red and her gang of nerds have planted a seriously beautiful greenhouse up here, even if it is just a small overhang near the mouth of the stairs. Carmilla wasn’t expecting it and she wasn’t expecting Laura to be just as enamored by it all, but when Laura takes a seat on a short bench as far away from the mushrooms as possible, she looks so peaceful that Carmilla can’t help but join her and feel the same contentment wash over her. The sun looks beautiful above them, filtered and fractured through the glass, and it reminds Carmilla that that shining yellow orb is just another star.

Laura is sitting very close to her, but Carmilla attributes some of that to the bench. It isn’t big enough to seat more than just the two of them, and they’re both very small people. She doesn’t complain though. Laura looks almost as beautiful as their surroundings, especially up close.

“I love the way it smells up here,” Laura says, taking a big whiff of the air. “Like flowers. It’s nice. I come up here sometimes to wind down after practice or calm down before a big game.”

Carmilla just listens to Laura speak. Her voice is pretty, and Carmilla doesn’t want to ruin the moment with her own words.

Laura picks a chili cheese fry from her plate and Carmilla remembers that they’re supposed to be eating.

“So how do you like East Silas?” Laura asks.

Carmilla shrugs. “It’s alright,” she admits, and that’s more of a compliment than Laura realizes it is. “We couldn’t have greenhouses like this in the middle of winter back east. I guess that’s one benefit of living in a place that gives Hell a run for its money.”

Laura laughs and Carmilla thinks she’ll say anything just to hear it again, no matter how stupid the joke is.

“You get used to the heat after a while,” Laura starts. “Imagine working out in it, though. I get so sweaty after practice. It’s gross.” Her nose scrunches at the thought.

There are a couple of words Carmilla would use to describe the image of a sweaty, red-faced Laura she has in her head, but gross isn’t one of them. She keeps her thoughts to herself, though, and swallows the words along with her bread. Her role is stale and unpleasant. She grimaces more than Laura.

“The only thing worth eating here are the cheese fries,” Laura tells her, noticing Carmilla’s dissatisfaction and shoving another golden stick in her mouth. She munches on it for a moment before talking again. “I’m not sure what’s in the chili, but as long as you don’t ask, you can probably pretend it’s meat.”

Carmilla looks at her plate. Her roll has shattered into crumbs, and her jelly looks alive. It’s still moving even though it definitely shouldn’t be. She’ll get chili fries tomorrow. Or pack her lunch. Or convince her mother to change the school menu entirely. She’s definitely not eating anything on her plate today, though. She pushes her tray away and Laura slides hers between them, offering Carmilla the only viable sustenance she’s going to get for the remainder of the school day. It’s so sweet that Carmilla can’t bear to turn her down. She picks up a fry with a smile and plops in into her mouth.

“It’s good,” she says surprised around a mouthful of potato. “Definitely not meat, though.”

Laura giggles again and stares at Carmilla for a moment. Loose strands of her hair kick up in the breeze and Carmilla is hyper aware of how close they are and how she can see every dimple and freckle on Laura’s face. She wonders if Laura is as sensitive to her right now, if maybe she’s staring because Carmilla has cheese sauce on the corner of her lip. She swipes it with her thumb just to be safe.

“You know what else is good?” Laura asks. She waits a moment for Carmilla to guess, but Carmilla can’t think of any joke appropriate and decides to stay silent. “The musical,” Laura finishes, and Carmilla instantly bursts out laughing.

“Good one, cupcake,” she praises.

Laura pouts for a moment. “No, I’m serious. I’ve heard it’s good.”

Carmilla can’t hold back the sarcasm. “Did Perry tell you that?”

“No. Well, yeah, but.” Carmilla gets a sick satisfaction out of watching Laura stumble over her words, and she likes the bunched up face Laura makes when she’s angry even more. “I’ve never actually been to one,” Laura starts again, “But I know JP and he’s a really good composer, so it probably doesn’t suck that bad.”

The more Laura talks, the more serious she seems, and Carmilla doesn’t understand why. “So what?” she asks, and Laura looks a little hurt.

“Well.” Laura shrugs. “I was just thinking… musicals are sort of like karaoke, right? And we had fun doing karaoke together, so… maybe we could go to the musical together too. ”

Carmilla is more than hesitant. Karaoke with Laura is a bit different than Broadway with Perry. “I don’t know, Laura. Singing with you is one thing, but watching the ginger twins dance onstage? I’m not sure musicals are my thing.”

Laura looks disappointed, but she persists. “Then we could go just to make fun of it or something. You have to admit, you’d totally have fun laughing at Perry for two hours straight.”

That idea makes Carmilla smile. So does the idea of having Laura there beside her while she does it. She could definitely enjoy a night like that. It’s the best reason to attend a musical she’s ever heard. “Alright,” Carmilla agrees. “We can go to the musical.”

Laura’s face suddenly lights up, and Carmilla knows it has nothing to do with the sun hovering over them. “Yeah?” she asks. “Together?”

Carmilla bites her lip and nods. “Yeah. Together.”

“Cool.” Laura blushes slightly and looks down, but Carmilla’s close enough to her to pick up on it. She tucks her hair behind her ear again. “It’s a date, then.” Immediately Laura hears what she says and looks up again, eyes frantic and pallor erasing her blush. “Er – if you want it to be,” she stutters, meeting Carmilla’s eyes and praying she hasn’t overstepped a boundary.

She hasn’t.

Carmilla repeats the words with purpose. “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Updates (hopefully) every Saturday
> 
> Tracked on tumblr as "carmilla hsmau"


End file.
